


These Are The Days We've Been Waiting For

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Series: History Of Melancholia [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hanukkah, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't all bad days. Sometimes, things look a little brighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Are The Days We've Been Waiting For

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sam and Arthur for making sure all my Jewish stuff was correct.  
> Arthur wanted Jehan singing "Somebody To Love" by Jefferson Airplane at Courfeyrac, and I delivered.  
> Jewish Amis: Jehan, Eponine, and Gavroche.  
> This is a bit of a departure from my usual Grantaire-or-Enjolras POV, since I wanted it to be a little lighter and have more Amis.

"Courf, you're supposed to grate the potato into the bowl, not on the floor."

"Uh. Oh. Oops." Courfeyrac moves the grater back over the bowl and resumes scraping the potato against it. Jehan is standing on his tiptoes, rummaging in the cupboard, his hair tied into a messy bun that exposes the pale expanse of his neck, which Courfeyrac has been staring at for the past minute or so. He drops the potato into the bowl and tries to snag Jehan as he passes, but the little poet dodges his arm and spins away to open the refrigerator. Courfeyrac gives a wordless whine.

"Oh hush, you. We had a shower together this morning."

"Now you're just teasing me!" Courfeyrac growls as the poet smirks over his shoulder and wiggles his hips. Jehan responds to the accusation with a sweet grin and places a carton of eggs on the counter.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jehan dodges him again, keeping the kitchen island between them.

"I'm going to throw eggs at you!"

Jehan giggles and spins around the table again, bouncing on his toes. He starts to sing, laughing at the indignant expression on Courfeyrac's face when he recognizes the song.

"When the garden flowers, baby, are dead yes, and your mind, your mind is so full of red! Don't you want somebody to love! Don't you need somebody to love?"

"Yeah, I would, if he wasn't such a butt!" Courfeyrac calls over Jehan's singing.

"Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love!" Jehan closes his eyes and leans back using the table for support on the last line, and Courfeyrac swoops in, grabbing him round the middle and attacking his neck with his lips. Jehan shrieks in surprise, but tilts his head to give Courfeyrac better access to his skin. Courfeyrac kisses across his neck and up to his lips, and they kiss against the counter, the food forgotten.

There's a knock on the door just as they're getting into it, and Courfeyrac releases Jehan with a groan, scrunching up his nose in disappointment. Jehan grins and pats him on the chest teasingly.

"Did you really think we weren't going to be interrupted? We're throwing a party." He points a finger Courfeyrac as the other man opens his mouth. "And no, I'm not going to turn them away so we can have sex. It's Hanukkah.'

"Fine," Courfeyrac grumbles, and follows Jehan to the door.

"Did we interrupt something?" Grantaire asks with a grin, noticing their flushed faces and swollen lips.

Jehan pointed behind him. "He started it."

"Figures," Enjolras grins.

"Hey!"

Enjolras unravels his scarf and shakes off his coat, hanging it on the whimsical hooks that line the wall next to the front door. "Are we the first ones here?"

"Yeah. That's all right though. You can help grate potatoes for the latkes, since Courfeyrac is too busy trying to distract me."

Grantaire drops their bag of presents on the floor where Jehan indicates. "Sounds like a plan."

They drift as a group back towards the kitchen, but Jehan hangs back as Grantaire and Courfeyrac step into the room and pick up on the work that has to be done. He stops Enjolras with a hand on his arm and gestures towards the kitchen with a dip of his head.

"He's doing better?"

"Yeah, a lot better." Enjolras can hardly conceal his grin. It feels amazing to be able to tell someone that things are good again. "He's smiling. Like, real smiles. He can get out of bed. He's been talking about trying to paint again. It's wonderful."

Jehan squeezes his shoulder. "That's great! I've been worried about him."

"I know. Me too."

They join the other two in the little yellow kitchen, and Enjolras can see Jehan watching Grantaire and smiling at the happiness that's apparent there. Soon, Enjolras and Grantaire are grating potatoes and chopping onions while Jehan puts together a fruit salad for those less inclined to eat the fried everything that will inevitably occur as Courfeyrac leans against the counter and watches without helping.

Before long, the rest of Les Amis have joined them, crowding into Courfeyrac and Jehan's tiny flat, talking and laughing. Enjolras watches from the kitchen doorway as Grantaire engages in a joke-filled conversation with Bossuet, his face smoothed out and flushed and smiling. An honest smile; Enjolras knows the difference between the genuine smiles and the ones he doles out at meetings when he's down. Warmth rushes into his belly at the sight of Grantaire laughing. It makes him want to cry a little, out of delight.

Eponine is the last to arrive, with Gavroche in tow, a blue and white yarmulke perched on his little blonde head. She hugs Jehan with a cheerful greeting of "Happy Hanukkah!" and follows him towards the kitchen to say hello to everyone else.

"Eponine!" Courfeyrac flings his arms wide to embrace her. Instead, she punches him in the shoulder with an exasperated look on her face. "Hey! What was that for?"

She raises one dismayed eyebrow, then shakes her head and sighs, eyes rolling, when Courfeyrac continues to look blankly at her. "Your shirt, obviously. 'Gettin' chai?' Did you even understand that or did Jehan have to tell you?"

"I had to tell him," Jehan replies as Courfeyrac smooths his hands down the navy blue shirt emblazoned with the word "Gettin'" and the Hebrew symbol for life, "chai", and a picture of a bearded rabbi with the Torah in one hand and a pipe in the other. "And then he wouldn't stop whining until we bought it. I _told_ him he was going to get hit for it, but he wouldn't listen."

"I think it's funny!" Courfeyrac protests.

Eponine snorts. "Yeah, the problem is you had to have it explained to you."

"I'm an honorary Jew! Jehan is trying to teach me Hebrew."

"It's not going very well." Jehan adds with a shrug.

"Honorary Jew," Eponine mutters, rolling her eyes affectionately. "You get more ridiculous by the day."

Enjolras watches this exchange from the kitchen doorway. Looking back into the living room, he can see Grantaire and Bahorel ganging up on Bossuet, probably making fun of him for some accident while he shoves playfully back at Bahorel, then the two of them gang up on Grantaire instead, laughing and hanging off each other. Grantaire willingly engaging in banter is another thing he hasn't seen in far too long. When he's feeling poorly there's always a stripe of reluctance through it. Now, though, the dark-haired man is shoving instead of being shoved and doling out just as good as he seems to be getting. Enjolras turns away and watches Jehan and Eponine laying out challah on a platter and laughing a little when Eponine smacks Gavroche's hands away from where he's reaching for a jelly donut. When he looks back into the living room, Grantaire is headed his way.

"Hey."

"Hey, how're you doing?"

"Good. Better than usual."Grantaire nods enthusiastically, and his expression has a lightness to it that is rare.

"I can tell. I'm glad."

Grantaire has been better lately. Not every day is perfect, but this is an upswing that's been a long time coming, and they're both grateful. Enjolras knows, though, that every day is dampened just a little by the dread that a dip could come at any moment. But still, it's great. It's wonderful. He's been so worried about Grantaire, concern and niggling fears eating away at him, but this is a reprieve for both of them. And seeing Grantaire happy is something that he's pretty sure will always be the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

Enjolras wraps his arm around Grantaire's waist, and Grantaire leans his head on his shoulder affectionately, grinning and breathing a puff of warm air against Enjolras' neck as he noses at his jaw. He brings his other hand up to stroke Grantaire's hair, and the other man hums. Marius slides past them into the kitchen as Jehan begins spooning the latke batter into the oil-filled pan and Eponine tugs Gavroche away from the drops of hot oil spitting out of the pan.

"Do you want help with the potato pancakes?" Marius asks, peering into the batter bowl. Jehan turns to stare at him with an incredulous expression before handing the spoon off to Eponine with a nod and pointing his finger at Marius's surprised face.

"They are not 'potato pancakes', Pontmercy. They are latkes. The word comes from a Russian word that means 'patch'. They're cooked in oil because it's symbolic of the miracle of Hanukkah. They're not potato pancakes, they're latkes."

Marius' confused and frightened expression relaxes only slightly. "Okay."

Bahorel hoots from the doorway. "Oooh, Marius you got _told_!"

Jehan sighs and picks up the spoon. " _Now_ you can help make the latkes."

Eponine and Jehan spend the next few minutes teaching Marius how to spoon the batter of onion and potato into the hot oil, laughing a little as he jumps back from the sizzle and spit. Eventually, Marius gets the hang of scooping the right size and Eponine wanders off to check on the meat while Jehan supervises the newcomer.

Enjolras watches the bustle around them and wonders for a moment if their friends have noticed the difference in Grantaire, the difference in them both. Are they choosing not to mention it because they think it will bring Grantaire down again? He understands that fear. It's his first thought when he wakes up every morning: Will Grantaire be better or worse today? But he's indescribably glad that things have been looking up, so glad that he sometimes feels like he wants to climb up onto the roof and scream it out to the sky, because it feels like it's been forever since it's been like this.

"Food time!" Eponine calls, and everyone comes running. Jehan starts to laugh as he carries in a plate of fruit salad to place on the big fold-out table. "What?"

"You sound like my aunt when I was little. 'Ess bubbeleh! Ess! Ess!' I'm trying to imagine you with permed hair and big glasses."

"You're a doofus. Sit down."

The table is set, and latkes are served onto plates with sour cream and applesauce, brisket is passed round, and everyone grabs a jelly donut, even Gavroche. Two loaves of challah are set out on the table and immediately torn into.

Bossuet sighs with happiness and leans back in his chair, patting his belly. "I think I may convert to Judaism just for the good food. Joly, I'm leaving you for challah bread."

"We'll compromise. So long as you don't sleep with it, you can have your affair."

"Deal. I'm sure Musichetta won't mind."

Marius bites into a fried jelly donut and hums in delight. Then he frowns. "What are these called again?"

"Sufganiyot," Eponine says.

"Soof-what?" Bahorel squawks loudly.

"Sufganiyot."

"I don't-- that sounds like gibberish."

"It's Hebrew, of course it sounds like gibberish to you."

This, of course, devolves into a five-minute lesson on the pronunciation of various Hebrew words with Eponine and the rest of the table, and Jehan trying to explain the difference between Yiddish and Hebrew to a confused Joly.

The rest of the meal is full of laughter and cheerful conversation. Bossuet only falls out of his chair once, and Feuilly has somehow managed to get drunk on Manischewitz despite his usual drinking habits. This sends Bahorel and Eponine into a fit of giggles, and someone accuses Bahorel of spiking the wine, which he neither confirms nor denies. Bahorel soothes Feuilly's indignant frown with a kiss to his cheek before shoving his head to the side none to gently.

Jehan and Enjolras are deeply engaged in a conversation about the assumption that Hanukkah is the 'Jewish Christmas' and how insulting and ignorant that is. Enjolras is ranting angrily about the suppression of other religions by Christianity and the church. Grantaire suppresses a smirk, though, when Jehan does add that many Jews use that assumption to throw parties and get presents on a relatively small Jewish holiday, and that he kind of likes that because, well, presents. It's a point that even Enjolras is nearly willing to concede.

Grantaire looks around the table at his friends and feels warm. He feels _good_ , and that's such an unfamiliar feeling that he almost wants to stamp out the giddiness it brings. He wonders maybe if he's nearly hit baseline for the first time in far too long. But the idea of that brings to life little whispers that dread another plunge. He pushes them away with vehemence. He wants to savour this feeling, to appreciate it and bask in it, because not only does it make him happy, but he can see the lines in Enjolras' face have smoothed, the sleepless and worried bruises around his eyes have faded, and that makes him glad, too. Enjolras is happy, and Grantaire finds it comforting to realize that he can take that in and actually feel good about it, feel good about someone else's emotional state. It's nice.

After the meal, Jehan retrieves the menorah from the shelf and everyone gathers in the living room, standing in a semi-circle in front of the little wooden cabinet by the window. Jehan's menorah is copper curled in loose, vine-like shapes. The base is made of smooth blue glass, and coloured glass pendants dangle from the looped ends of each twisting copper candle-holder. Together, he and Eponine place blue candles in each little holder, until there are nine candles on the menorah.

Jehan takes the centre candle and holds it out to Eponine, who pulls out a lighter and ignites the wick. Everyone is quiet as Jehan lets out a gentle breath and lights the wick of the candle furthest to the left. Grantaire watches Eponine's lips move along to Jehan's melodic voice as he recites the prayers.

"Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav y'tzivanu l'had'lik neir shel Chanukah."

Everyone echoes the "Amein" that Eponine responds with, and a smile graces both her face and Jehan's. Half the menorah is lit, and Jehan moves on to the other half with the second blessing.

"Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam she'asah nisim la'avoteinu bayamim haheim baziman hazeh."

The "Amein" is repeated and echoed, and then everyone stands for a moment in complete silence, watching the nine flames flicker and dance and reflect off the window. Grantaire feels hypnotized by their movements and the warm presences of Enjolras against his side. It's as if the ice that has been coating him has thawed, like winter has become spring, though he doesn't know for how long. But it's enough to be able to see the sun, to be able to appreciate the beauty of candles and the laughter of friends. He closes his eyes and leans his head on Enjolras' shoulder with a contented sigh. Enjolras squeezes his hand.

Jehan turns round again and grins at them. "Presents time!"

"And dreidel," Bahorel adds. "Gavroche promised me Eponine would teach me how to play."

"And dreidel." Jehan concedes.

"You only want to learn how to play because it's gambling." Feuilly grumbles.

The eye roll this gets out of Bahorel is massive. "Uh, yeah, exactly."

Little presents are passed around once everyone has settled on couches or chairs or the floor in the living room. Courfeyrac tackles Jehan and peppers his face with kisses as he unwraps a DVD box set of Friends. Combeferre smiles and thanks Enjolras sincerely for the hardbound copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes. Bahorel grins toothily when he unwraps a package of red and black hand wraps and nearly crushes Feuilly in a one-armed hug. Eponine gets a silver necklace from Grantaire, Joly gets yet another scarf to add to his constantly growing collection from Bossuet, Grantaire receives a small canvas and a few paintbrushes and Enjolras nearly melts at the smile that brings.

Grantaire drops the gifts onto the couch beside him and clutches Enjolras to him, pressing fingers into his shoulder blades and squeezing tight. "I'll make something with them tonight." Grantaire promises quietly, and Enjolras smiles.

After the presents are all opened, Bahorel flings himself gleefully onto the paisley rug and points at Gavroche. "All right, little man, teach me how to play this game of yours."

Eponine and Gavroche join him on the floor, Eponine sitting crosslegged in front of him, while Gavroche drapes himself across Bahorel's back. Feuilly and Grantaire quickly join in as well. It is gambling, after all.

Seeing the enthusiasm of the group, Enjolras has to smile. Maybe at some other time he would be annoyed at Grantaire for playing a gambling game, but now he's just happy that Grantaire feels clear-headed enough to play something that requires attention and energy. Sure, there are days when Grantaire can do what he asks and when he's up and moving and talking and doing things, but this is the best he's seen in a long time, and it's a success, a big step, and hopefully, a more frequent one.

Eponine sends Jehan to grab the bag of chocolate gelt from the top of the refrigerator and begins to explain the rules once he's dropped it into her lap and sat down again. "Everyone starts out with fifteen of whatever you're betting with." She pointed at Bahorel. "We're using gelt because this is a game, and because there's children present. And I know if real money were involved, _some_ of us would be a bit too violent. Anyway, you start out with fifteen."

She doles out the chocolate coins, ignoring Bahorel's grumbles about not being able to bet like a real man. Then she picks up the dreidel, tossing the four-sided top from hand to hand as she explains the game.

"We all put one coin into the centre, the pot, at the beginning, and then whenever the pot is empty. Each person spins the dreidel on their turn. If you land on this one, nun, you do nothing. If you land on gimel, you take the whole pot. If you land on hei, you take half the pot. If you land on shin, you have to add a coin to the pot. Whoever gets everything wins. And gets to eat it. If you run out of coins, you're out of the game, or you can ask someone for a loan."

"Can we play now?" Gavroche wheedles. "I wanna play."

"Yeah, alright kid. Let's play. You can go first."

"Hooray!" Gavroche snatches the dreidel from Eponine's hand and spins it gleefully.It lands on hei, and he cackles and grabs three coins from the floor in front of him. The driedel is passed to Eponine, who spins and lands on gimel. Everyone groans.

"Now we all put a coin in the pot again."

Jehan spins next, lands on shin with a pout and tosses a coin into the pot. Combeferre has been staring at the "Happy Hanukkah" banner above the door for a few minutes, and Jehan asks him why.

"I thought it was spelled C-H-A-N-U-K-A-H. When did the spelling change?"

"It didn't," Eponine answers smacking Bahorel on the shoulder when he tries to eat a piece of gelt they're playing with. "It can be spelled both ways."

"Or with an H and two N's," Jehan adds as he takes the entire pot. "No one can decide how it's spelled and everyone always fights over it."

"I spell it with a CH," Eponine supplies as an example. "But Prouvaire here does it with an H and two Ks. I think it just depends on what you were taught as a kid."

"You learn something new every day," Bossuet comments.

Normal conversation is interrupted by a loud " _Ha_!" from Feuilly as he lands on gimel and swoops in for his loot.

Everyone reverts to their own discussions once Bahorel lands on shin and the game gets aggressive. Feuilly, Gavroche and Bahorel have devolved into yelling at each other in order to try and get a negative spin, or shoving in order to throw their arms off-balance. Eponine and Jehan only roll their eyes and continue to play, and Grantaire watches both sides with quiet amusement, like he's viewing a tennis match. He's more interested in being able to actually appreciate his friends' enthusiasm and excitement and to enjoy their stupid banter than in getting into the game. The game ends with Eponine winning while Gavroche and Bahorel let out twin wails of despair.

And when everyone has cleaned up their wrapping paper, and Eponine has divided some of her winnings to give to Gavroche and Bahorel, and Jehan has promised to give Bossuet his recipes, everyone begins to collect their things and say goodbye and Happy Hanukkah before they slip out the door and into the cold.

Jehan hugs Grantaire tightly. "I'm glad you came."

Grantaire grins into his embrace. "So am I."

The ride back to their flat is silent, but Grantaire is smiling as he leans against the window, and his hand is linked with Enjolras' in the space between them. Enjolras feels like he's going to burst from joy.

When they get home, Grantaire takes his gift from Enjolras hands and places it on the kitchen counter before grabbing his lover and kissing him soundly. Enjolras cannot help but smile, cannot help the giddiness that bubbles up in his belly at the sight of Grantaire looking truly happy and serene for the first time in far too long.

"It was a good day."

Grantaire nods and lets out a contented sigh, eyes closed for a moment as if savouring the day. "Yes, it was."

Enjolras picks up the little canvas and brushes from the table and holds them out. "What do you want to paint on this?"

Grantaire doesn't even think about it, just laces their fingers together and smiles. "You."

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://www.zazzle.com/gettin_chai_t_shirt-235703404109073875) is the shirt Courfeyrac was wearing.  
> [This](http://img3.etsystatic.com/000/0/5159952/il_fullxfull.14180459.jpg) is Jehan's menorah.  
>  The "honorary Jew" thing is based on a joke in my family, who is the only non-Jewish family in a huge circle of about nine other families who are all Jewish, and so we all joke that my family are honorary Jews since we go to all the holiday stuff and the bar/bat mitzvahs, etc etc.


End file.
